


The Terrible Hangover

by Luckyhai5



Series: Conkersverse: Secrets of the Shire [6]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, conkersverse, secrets of the shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyhai5/pseuds/Luckyhai5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin wakes up on the Carrock, feeling a little worse for wear...</p><p>(Will make more sense if you read the others first, although perhaps not much more...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Terrible Hangover

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Been a while since I updated this, but I thought I would.  
> Can feel my sanity ebbing away, and I should really go to sleep...

Fuck.

Have I been drinking?

Certainly feels like it. My head aches terribly, feeling very sorry for myself.

This feels like the Terrible Hangover of my first Durin's Day as a grown dwarf, just a little older than a dwarling.

If I remember correctly, I mistook Dwalin for a very handsome guard I had a (slight) crush on at the time - not that I, in my majesty, have ever experienced  _crushes_ , even as a youngster - and kissed him.

He found it so hilarious that he only stopped me when I started unlacing his trousers.

But that is one of the Terrible Things We Are Sworn to Never Speak Of.

Would appreciate it if someone would turn the sun down.

Gandalf, it's your time to shine...

Gandalf? Ah yes, I'm on a quest, and...

It all comes rushing back.

Azog! Hobbit! Eagles!

I groan, opening my eyes slowly, to find a Company of dwarves all staring down at me concernedly.

Well, expect for Dwalin. That old bugger's seen me in worse shape and for far stupider reasons.

Once I reclaim Erebor, I really should kill him. He knows far too much about me.

Yes, they're all there - yet the big brown eyes of a certain hobbit are currently not fixed upon my (battered) magnificence.

Honestly, what do I have to do to get a bit of attention from Bilbo, anyway?! I rankle as I recall the elves.

How does one grow tomatoes...?

"Bilbo...?" I rasp, unable to prevent myself from calling out for him in my weakened state.

A few eyebrows go up.

Well, sod the lot of you.

Bofur is visibly _twinkling_ , and already I see that Fili and Kili are plotting things. Ori has that look on his face which means that every moment of this will be chronicled and go down in history forever - I suppress a groan - and Dori looks like an approving mother hen. It's all very disconcerting.

Bilbo is by my side in a flash, looking at me a little hesitantly as he takes in my injuries.

Fuck, if he isn't cute. Want to ravish him even more than usual.

My shoulder twinges.

Ouch.

Maybe later.

I drag myself to my feet, with the help of Dwalin and Gandalf, not that I need it, slouching slightly because everything hurts, before steeling my gaze and looking Bilbo in the eye.

I am very intense. He is captivated.

*glee*

Gandalf says, "It's alright, Bilbo is here."

Shut up, wizard! He's ruining the moment.

I take Bilbo in, his curls wild and unruly about his flushed face, his hands hanging by his sides like he's not sure what to do with them.

His big, brown eyes are still utterly fixed on mine, his whole body frozen, as though preparing for what I'm about to say.

Ah yes, I need to say something.

Never been one for words, truth be told.

Never really had the occasion - life has largely consisted of running from a dragon, raising the brutes I call nephews with the brute I call a sister, _not_ being swindled by Men, and now this quest business.

Must remember to formulate Plan.

Never speak to hobbits without a fully-formed Plan.

What will I say?

I want to tell him - that I need to fuck him as soon as physically able, please and thank you?

Perhaps not.

Good thing I made a Plan, that would have been a disastrous thing to say.

I shall thank him for his 'rescue' (not that I needed it, I was doing just fine).

Maybe later, I will tell him that I need to feel those pink lips on my throat, to hear him crying out my name.

Yes. Later.

I notice a bruise on the hobbit's cheek.

Suddenly, a strange rage surges in me.

The hobbit is hurt! The idiot went up against Orcs and Wargs for the sake of me (in my magnificence) and, conkers or no conkers, that is possibly the stupidest thing anyone has ever done in my whole life.

And so _romantic_.

Ahem.

"You! What were you doing?" I bark, snarling, "You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?”

The hobbit's face, crumples; he looks like he might cry.

Ah, no, I've deviated from the Plan.

Must fix this.

“I’ve never been so wrong in all my life!”

Time to test out my hugging theories; never did ask Dwalin to make those subtle inquiries.

I grab the hobbit, holding him tightly against me and trying not to focus too hard on his racing heartbeat.

Eventually, his arms come around me, too, and I hold him for a very long time.

He feels so warm and soft in my arms, and he smells so good, just distinctly Bilbo-ish.

Not that I care. I'm no hopeless romantic.

Have  _never_ pictured the hobbit head-to-toe in gold, eating tomatoes and laughing at my jokes.

Would be impossible.

I never make jokes.

I have been told I'm about as funny as Dwalin after his tenth beer - that is to say, more terrifying than amusing.

*Sigh*

Children can be so cruel.

My arms tighten around the hobbit.

I bet he'd laugh at my jokes anyway.

He's so polite.

The Company are cheering, and I frown as I hear the distinct sound of coins being thrown about.

Damn simpletons I surround myself with, placing bets...

Reluctantly, I pull away from Bilbo, whispering, "I'm sorry I doubted you."

His response is typically adorable, “No, I would have doubted me too. I’m not a hero or a warrior... Not even a burglar, despite my skill at conkers.”

Everyone is chuckling.

I chuckle too, but it is a front.

I am in fact hiding my deep desire to jump his bones.

The wizard is grinning.

The wizard _knows_.

“Is that, what I think it is?"

The hobbit's words come out of nowhere, and everyone is silent as we take in the outline of a mountain far off, where the clouds meet the earth.

Gandalf speaks, “Erebor - The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-earth.”

Well thanks a lot, Gandy, I definitely needed an introduction to my own damn mountain.

Not like I recognise it or anything.

“Our home.”

My words are resonant and kingly, as we all stare off into the sunrise.

Am feeling decidedly good about this whole quest business.

Burglar looks inspired.

Feel very smug.

I knew he'd like it more than Rivendell.


End file.
